


The Café

by pallaspersephone (Oceans28)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceans28/pseuds/pallaspersephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is a coffee person, and he's a stickler for routine too. It turns out, he isn't the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Café

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is just something I wrote in my free time. I hope you like it:).

Steve finally reached the table and sat down with a sigh. After taking the first sip of his drink he looked around, he peered around the building confusedly. Hm. Maybe he was early?

A few weeks ago- it was a Monday, if he remembered correctly- Steve arrived and ordered the same drink he always did. The cafe was extremely overcrowded, as it is on an early Monday morning, and unsurprisingly he found himself having to share a little table with another woman. This wasn’t the first time he had to share a table with someone else. Sharing a table in the crowded cafes of New York City was considered normal. The woman that Monday was perhaps in her twenties or thirties, with wavy brown hair, and was too busy rummaging in her bag to even notice his arrival. Then she looked up, forcefully pulling a paper out her paper and at the same time and noticed the man sitting across from her.

“Oh! Hello, didn’t see you there!” she thrust her hand out to him and he gladly shook it, also noting her accent that let him know she wasn’t from around here.

“I’m Clara.”

“It’s nice to meet you Clara. I’m Steve.” 

Then she stopped, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyes in a way that he could almost see the literal wheels turning in her mind. 

“You’re that man, aren’t you? That Captain..Captain America.” 

Steve nodded and smiled politely, because it wasn’t unusual to be recognized in public every now and then. Clara also smiled politely and then returned to her endless satchel of paper, sifting through and pulling out. 

And on that morning, that was the end of the conversation. Steve sipped his coffee, and she continued to work on whatever it was she was doing. He was curious to know why she needed all that paper, but it was early in the morning and he didn’t want to pry. So they both sat there and shared the table pleasantly, but not too pleasantly.

The following Friday morning Steve strided into the cafe and sat at the same table off to the side, following his routine and drinking the same coffee as last time. It wasn’t five minutes later that a certain young brown-haired woman arrived, sliding into the same seat she had sat in that Monday. 

“Well isn’t this a coincidence.” He noted aloud, smiling and blowing on the steam of his drink. She laughed and agreed, then opened the same bag and repeated her actions on Monday, that consisted of sifting through papers, writing on other ones, and putting them back again. 

“What are those papers for?-if you don’t mind me asking.” Steve said, feeling more comfortable than Monday.

“I’m a teacher,” She answered. Steve nodded.

“This summer I got invited to a teacher’s conference here in America- I’m from England, originally - and so here I am. The conference is actually for a whole month, and has a lot of visiting summer schools and such along with it.” Clara laughed lightly, and added, “If I knew there was going to be this much homework, I don’t know if I would have come in the first place.” 

“Well, I’m glad you did. Who else would I drink coffee with?” They both laughed at that one.

The next Monday the same thing happened. Steve truly thought it was just a funny coincidence that they were coming at the same times, but by Friday, they both realized they both came at exactly the same times every week without fail. 

“I only come on Mondays and Fridays because I like to start my week with something refreshing, like meditation, and I like ending it in the same place so I can look back on the week and what I got accomplished and what I need to do. Like a ritual.” Clara said one day. Steve found himself agreeing with her completely. He didn’t realize why he came every Monday and Friday morning until she said it out loud, but that was precisely it. 

And it continued. For the next three Mondays, and the next three Fridays, they met at the same table in the morning. On Monday, they would talk to each other about the week ahead of them, and the feats they would have to accomplish. On Friday, they would talk about what happened their week: what they got done and then the surprises that came along the way. Steve found it very pleasant to have someone to talk to about his daily struggles and adventures. The one thing he never mentioned on Fridays -or on any day, for that matter - was Bucky. Bucky was a secret he couldn’t yet share, not with anyone who wasn’t Sam Wilson. Sometimes, on Fridays when he asked how her week had been, Clara would get this distant look in her eyes, one that made him feel that she was also holding something back, something secret. And then it was gone and she would tell him all about her new adventures in the teacher conference, which were always some level of entertaining. Steve never realized how hard it was to be a schoolteacher (or how similar it was to his own job description) until he met Clara. 

Soon Steve found himself waking up on Monday mornings looking forward to seeing Clara and chatting with her, the same on Fridays. It had become an accepted appointment between them, something accidental turned expected.

So, that very Monday morning in the present day, Steve found himself sitting alone at the table glancing around the cafe, attempting to spot a young brunette among the crowd. Where was she? Maybe she slept in, after doing a lot of work on Sunday night. 

A good few minutes passed with Steve sitting there at their table alone, until he remembered. He sighed softly and set his coffee cup down on the table, looking across at the empty chair in front of him. 

Last Friday morning they had executed their normal routine of friendly chatter and reminiscing on the highlights of their separate weeks;however, at the end Clara stopped and reminded him that this was the last Friday of the month, and that the teacher conference officially ended the following Saturday. 

“That means I won’t be seeing you anymore in the mornings, Steve.” 

Now, he realized, she was probably already back in England, in her own home, doing whatever it is schoolteachers do in the summer. Their morning talks were over, and from now on he would be drinking his coffee alone, or with someone else not nearly as interesting as her. 

Steve picked up his steaming coffee and strode out the door into the daylight, hearing the bell cling as he walked out. For the first time in five weeks, he was leaving early.


End file.
